


You Can Run, But You Can't Hide

by GJRC1990



Category: Sons of Anarchy
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-06
Updated: 2016-09-08
Packaged: 2018-04-13 06:46:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4511958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GJRC1990/pseuds/GJRC1990
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Opie Winston has been living in hiding from SAMCRO under an assumed name, Harvey Winters, in the far northern US town of Madawaska, Maine, for the last 5 years after the death of his father, Piney, at the hands of Clay Morrow. He is happily married with 2 step daughters. But he hides a horrible secret from his new family, one that will come back to haunt him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The End

**Author's Note:**

> This whole work is strictly Alternate Universe, and is loosely based on one of my favourite movies, A History Of Violence. Details will be altered to avoid copyright issues. Also, I do not own any characters from Sons Of Anarchy, only characters made up by me.

2011, Charming, Northern California, USA

 

It was a scene of complete devastation.

The only sounds in Clay Morrow's now destroyed loungeroom were the moans of pain from the man himself, Clay, in a blood-drenched mess on his loungeroom floor, and the heavy, animalistic panting of the reason that Clay had no liveable loungeroom anymore, and was pissig blood on his floor: Opie Winston, a longtime soldier for the Mother Charter of the Sons Of Anarchy Motorcycle Club, and the son of one of the founding members, Piney Winston. A man who Clay had only murdered about 4 days ago, which he was now paying the price for.

"P-pl-please Ope..." the injured man whimpered, raising a shaky hand dripping blood, "just let me ex- AAAARRRGHH!!!!!" Clay screamed as Opie slammed the KA-BAR knife into his stomach, causing more blood to flow. "EXPLAIN WHAT?!!!" Opie shouted, in a voice that can only be described as demonic, "THAT YOU BLEW A HOLE IN MY OLD MAN'S CHEST, LEFT HIM THERE LIKE A SACK OF SHIT?!!!! OVER SOME GODDAMN LETTERS?!!!!!!!! HE WAS THE ONE WHO BROUGHT YOU INTO THIS FUCKIN' CLUB!!!!" At this, Clay could say no more. He was slowly dying. Howling with rage, Opie threw the KA-BAR aside, stood up and rushed to his truck outside. It was time to put this old backstabbing bastard out of his misery.

Clay could only moan, in a voice that was weakening with death, as Opie emptied the jerry can of fuel all over him. Standing back, Opie lit a cigarette, smoking, glaring at the man who had taken everything from him. "Burn in Hell, you filthy rat bastard" Opie snarled softly, as he tossed the lit cigarette onto the fuel-soaked Clay. As the flames quickly ascended to the ceiling, so did Clay's screams. It was the last sound he would make.

Neighbours watched in horror as they looked at the burning house of the biker President, and the blood soaked giant known around town as Opie Winston exit the house, barely paying attention to the growing crowd of horrified onlookers as they called the police, fire brigade, any emergency service they could think of. Calmly, Opie jumped into his truck, and backed out of the driveway, oblivious to the people, or the cacaphony of sirens in the air, getting louder by the second. He simply drove away. His next stop was a house a couple of streets away. His next target was his until-yesterday best friend in the whole world, Jax Teller.

 

 

Jackson "Jax" Teller, of course, was alerted to the gruesome catastrophe in his mothers and Clay's street. Suiting up in his kutte quickly, he quickly told his fiance, the love of his life, Tara Knowles, to take the kids straight to the clubhouse. "Oh my god, Jax? What about Gem?" Tara asked, fearful. "Don't worry, she should be fine, she's not home" Jax answered rapidly, "it's Clay that I'm worried about". With Abel and Thomas in the arms of their parents, Jax quickly kissed his fiance goodbye as he made to go outside. He never made it, as the front door was smashed open with such force it knocked Jax on his ass.

Tara's screams and his children's crying brought Jax back to his senses. He looked up quickly as he was hauled to his feet and slammed up against the wall, staring into the vengeful, hate- filled eyes of Opie Winston. "You fucking traitor" Opie snarled, almost nose to nose with Jax, who was staring at Opie in shock, seeing that he was covered in blood, and smelling like fuel, "you knew about what Clay did to my old man, didn't you? You were in on the cartel deal at the table, it makes sense!" "Ope, I told you last night, NO, I didn't know!" Jax yelled, panicked. It was true, Jax had no idea what his stepfather had done to Piney, nor was he all for doing deals with the cartel for his own gain, not like Clay. Jax was using it to escape Charming with Tara and his boys. But Opie was beyond the point of listening to reason. Growling like a wild animal, he slammed his fist directly into Jax's face. Jax crumpled, sliding down the wall, the back of his head sliding down leaving a trail of blood. Tara screamed, running towards this madman who had been like family to her for years, making to pull him off Jax, who was now cowering against Opie's endless heavy blows raining down on his body, begging him to stop, to let him explain.

Opie felt hands clutching at him as he terrifically beat the shit out of Jax. Snarling, he turned and grabbed the offending party, realizing it was Tara. Tara screamed for him to stop amid the cacaphony of the children's shrieks and wails. Her answer was to be thrown across the room, slamming into the couch. "Keep your filthy, traitor-cock-fiddling hands off me!" Opie shouted, drawing his gun, a 9mm Glock 17, turning back to the heaving, bloody, broken mass on the floor. Tara was terrified into mute silence, could only stare in shocked terror at the man who Jax had practically grown up with, not even noticing the pain where her head had hit the wooden edge of the couch or the trickling of blood from said head wound. Jax would surely have gotten up and attacked Opie in an instant had both his legs still been intact; they weren't. Opie had smashed them into bloody masses, every bone in them fractured or broken. However, by some miracle, his ribs were only cracked and his arms weren't broken, though his face looked like a cross between swiss cheese and spilt wine. This didn't stop him from dragging himself forward, to put hands on his former best friend for daring to attack Tara.

Opie pointed his gun at the head of the severely injured man, whose eyes were blazing with fury, only matched by the poisonous hatred in Opie's. "You dumb fucking prick, you just won't FUCKING LISTEN, WILL YOU?!!!" Jax roared, spitting blood, his eyes leaking both blood and tears. Opie gave a heartless yell of laughter before saying, gun still aimed at Jax, "Listen?! Did you listen to me when I said that getting involved with the cartel was a DUMB FUCKING IDEA?! Or how about when I told you about the letters about JT? How Clay fucked his bike, sent him to his death? I needed you at my side, we BOTH lost our dads to that fat snake!" "We were meant to take it to the table, WINSTON" Jax hissed, immediately realizing that their bond of friendship was broken, also knowing that Opie had not long killed Clay, "take it to the club, do this right! Clay would have got what he deserved! Don't you get that?!" Opie, caught off guard by the use of his last name, which Jax had never done, faltered in his offensive state. The fury in his eyes was draining away, replaced by remorse... Jax WAS telling the truth. But it came too late. "Get out of my house!" Jax screamed suddenly, "you still get a seat at the table, but you STAY THE HELL AWAY FROM MY FAMILY!" Tara, who by now had recovered from her shock, joined in, ordering Opie away or she would call the police. Opie stared in shock, at the two people he had loved like his own siblings for most of his life, those two people now shouting at him as if he was a stranger, a deranged animal, a monster. "Leave, you bastard!" Tara screamed, rushing and pummelling Opie's chest, sobbing, "leave, never come back! How dare you come in here, accuse Jax of betraying you like that! We would never- How could you even think that?!" Tara sank to the floor, clutching Thomas, by Jax's side, sobbing. Abel was in tears, clutching his daddy, who was holding him, staring at Opie with anger and disappointment in his eyes. Opie's wave of sadness gave way to a new fury, and he stomped away, away from his former friends, swearing and banging objects as he went.

 

 

By the time the badly charred remains of Clay Morrow were in the morgue, and Jax Teller was rushed to hospital with his family at his side, Opie Winston had become the subject of a manhunt. By San Joaquin Sherriffs Department and SAMCRO's Sgt. At Arms, Tig Trager.

The Sherriff's Department wanted Opie for questioning over the brutal murder of Clay Morrow. Tig Trager wanted to "square up" with Opie, to make him pay for the death of his friend. Tig, of course, had no idea that Clay had personally murdered Opie's father a few days before. Tig was in no way justified to be hunting Opie down in the first place anyway. It was Tig who, years ago, had accidently shot Opie's wife, Donna, in the back of the head with a MAC 10 sub machine gun, thinking it was Opie, whom he intended to kill for fear of Opie been a rat, a fear planted by ATF, which turned out to be false. Opie had taken his revenge last year on the bitch who spun the lies, turned his own brothers against him, Agent June Stahl. It was a relief when Opie pulled the trigger of the MAC 10 against Stahl's skull, killing her the same way as Donna died. Shut her cowardly blubbering and crying up for good.

It wasn't Tig who found Opie. It was the other way around. Tig, of course was in no state to realize this, as he had been forced to the floor by his would-be prey, and was now screaming as Opie held a blowtorch to his right eye, disintegrating it. Opie had no words to say in this latest act of violence. He was leaving this shithole of a town for good, having left his kutte and motorcycle out front of Teller-Morrow automotive, making sure to leave a pile of dog shit on top of his kutte. Spitting on the screaming man beneath him, Opie left Tig's house, and started his journey towards a new life.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As far as the world knows, Opie Winston is dead. In his place is "Harvey Winters", a man living in Madawaska, Maine, with a wife and 2 step daughters, holding down a good job. "Harvey", though, has a bit of trouble forgetting about who he was, unbeknownst to his new family.

For a moment, the man formerly known as Opie Winston had a flashback. One of the moments in is life where he felt like putting a gun to his own head and ending the misery. He was, in fact, reliving a nightmare.

His mother, Mary Winston, his estranged wife, Lyla and his two kids, Ellie and Kenny. His last memory of them wasn't pleasant. In fact, it was downright horrible. It was the moment where, like his former best friends, they too had turned their backs on him. Ordered him out of their lives forever. It was an easy decision to hand down, considering Opie had shown up, covered in blood, begging them to escape Charming with him. His two children, the only people he had loved unconditionally, ran to their stepmom's side and clung there, staring at their father with utter fear and revulsion. Mary, of course, had started screaming, rushing up to Opie, grabbing him, beating him. "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE, HARRY?!" Mary yelled, "LOOK AT YOURSELF! HOW COULD YOU CALL YOURSELF A FATHER, AFTER GOING ON A KILLING SPREE!!?" Opie remembered standing there in blind shock; everyone was turning away from him. Lyla had ushered the kids inside, which they were only too glad to do. Opie shook his mother off him, made to go inside, only to be met with a fierce backhander from Lyla. Staggering, Opie stared into the eyes of his wife, eyes which used to look at him with love and adoration, but now stared at him with fury and disgust. "You call yourself a dad when you show up like this, covered in blood and smelling like gas?" Lyla demamnded, tears in her eyes. "Baby, please, let me-" Opie started before Lyla screamed "DON'T call me 'baby'! You lost that right when you stuck it up Ima, like I was never good enough for you!" "Says the whore who got an abortion without telling me" Opie snarled, ready to throttle the blonde beauty in front of him. And that was when Lyla totally lost it. Screaming, catching Opie off guard, she knocked him on his ass and proceeded to pummel him- all because he had called her "whore". Mary did nothing to help her son- as far as she was concerned, he deserved everything he got. Particularly after both her and Lyla had spent all of the previous night searching for him, calling him to beg and plead, to come home to be with them, his children- after the shocking news of Piney's murder got out. He had flat out ignored them, preferring to go on a bloodhunt for Clay, the man who had taken so much away from him.

It was then Opie had lost it. Struggling to his feet, which was difficult as Lyla was still handing him a terrific beating, he grabbed her by the throat, picking the lithe beauty up, and throwing her through Mary's front window with such force that the result was that Lyla was spreadeagled all over Mary's floor, her body ravaged by gashes and bruises. As the kids ran screaming to Lyla, Mary rushed to the hallway closet, pulling out the over-and-under shotgun, loaded, that Piney had given her on the first anniversary of their marriage. She had no compunctions about aiming the gun at her only son, firing... the buckshot missing Opie's head by mere millimetres. Opie, horrified by his own mother trying to shoot him, pointed his 9mm Glock at her. His mother, who stood in shock and horror as she realized slowly what she had just tried to do. Mary began sobbing, sinking to her knees. Opie felt a wave of nausea and hatred overtake him as he looked at her shaking on the ground. His mind set, he aimed for Mary's chest and pulled the trigger...

 

 

Opie snapped out of his thoughts as a voice sang out to him, "Oi Harvey, yeh gonna meet us at Leprechauns when ya finish up here?" Opie, or Harvey, as the man called him, turned to the grinning Irishman striding up to him. Timothy O'Rourke, foreman for the Madawaska Waterfront, Harvey's boss and brother in law. An expatriate straight from County Cork, Ireland, who had been in America for 6 years, dragging his Swedish wife, and his sister and children, along with him. "Uhh, yeah, just gotta hang around, wait til the Russians sail away, they'll be about another 20" Harvey smiled. "Aye, good lad, its the weekend, Frida's gonna pick ya up, and Andy n' I will meet ya down there" the red-faced, solidly built man winked, turned and started to drift towards the carpark.

Harvey ruminated on all this. How he had wound up in Madawaska of all places, landing a job on the docks, was something he still couldn't work out. He thought back to when he had first got here, 5 years ago. he had just gained his new identity through a crooked official in the INS, having "bought" a dead Scottish immigrant's identity. A little bit of doctoring, made easier by regular cash injections, had resulted in Harvey Winters, a Scottish-born naturalized American who had "spent most of his life in Maine", who had "served 5 years in the US Army" and was 37 years old. It really wasn't too far from the truth, as Opie had served in the Marines with Jax when they were teenagers, and didn't know much about the world outside of California (and Iraq, where they fought). "Andy", who Tim had brought up before, was Harvey's wife: Andrea O'Rourke, Tim's younger sister. Tim, who had taken an immediate liking to the new guy called Harvey, had dragged Harvey to a barbecue after working with him for just 3 days. Harvey wasn't originally up for it; he was in a morose mood after an incident with a British guy who had royally fucked up a consignment of furniture from Sweden. Tim, though, had insisted, so Harvey found himself in Tim's sprawling backyard one winter night, grilling pork and chugging Jamesons and Ale like it was going out of style. Harvey learnt two things that night: how to sing the Irish national anthem entirely in Gaelic while drunk, and that the red headed beauty who was Tim's sister had been asking questions about the new guy all night. Harvey soon learned her name was Andrea, and within 2 years they were married, with Harvey being the proud stepfather of two teenage girls. "Aye lad, glad yeh made it!" Tim's raucous, whiskey-laden voice boomed across the smoky, lively main bar of the Leprechaun as Harvey trudged in, greeted by loud, traditional Irish folk music and a sea of drunken, upbeat patrons. Harvey grinned as he took Frida by the arm, the crowd parting easily for the bearded giant and the brunette beauty on his arm. Frida, the brunette and Tim's wife, separated herself from Harvey and made her way to her husband, leaving Harvey free to make his way to his wife, Andrea. Her emerald green eyes never left his as she warmly embraced him. "How was work, darlin'?" the Irishwoman asked. "Ahh shit, goddamn Ruskies fart-assed around, made me late" Harvey grumbled, "how are you?" "I'm fine love, got off early, the lassies are mindin' the house" Andrea smiled, referring to their girls. Harvey accepted the pitcher of Guiness handed to him by Tim, who was already 8 pitchers himself on the way to being wasted. The couple laughed, relaxed, made chit chat. It was going to be a long and boozy night. On the other side of America, in Charming, Northern California, things were heating up. The motorcycle club known as the Sons of Anarchy had changed a great deal in the last 5 years. Jax Teller had finally claimed the throne after Clay Morrow's death, and had immediately set about severing ties with everyone that was hurting the MC, and working to set the club on the course which his father had wanted. This meant severing their weapons business with the IRA, and handing over distribution to the Mayans, something that took 4 years and the deaths of many Irish and 2 prospects to happen. The cocaine muling was done for too; Romeo had been happy to hand over the job to the One Niners. What Jax had done was redirect his clubs energy into prostitution, pornography and automotive. Cara Cara had been given new life, the porn studio being managed by Lyla, with the Sons using the majority of their last coke shipment payday to invest. And business was booming. Jax, Lyla, Chibs and Juice had sat down and worked out a smart business strategy that had resulted in more money coming into the club than they ever made off of guns and drugs. Then there was Diosa: a high end brothel managed by one Nero Padilla, a former gangbanger and new boyfriend of Gemma Teller-Morrow. After a struggle, Nero had managed to help Gemma through the pain of losing Clay, and love blossomed. And so did business. Nero had offered a partnership with Cara Cara about a year ago, and Lyla and Jax accepted. Jax brought it to Church, getting a unanimous vote for yes off his club. The result being that everyone was making money, and everyone was happy. Except for Jax. Despite achieving what he wanted with the club, and virtually ridding Charming of violence, Jax still held onto bitter feelings of hate and vengeance. There was one club member who should have been here for all of it, riding alongside him as his Vice President, to honour their deceased fathers' legacy. But he wasn't. It was Opie. And what happened between them 5 years ago was as fresh in Jax's mind as ever. For the past 5 years, Jax had made finding Opie his own personal private mission. There was no way he was going to ask Opie back into the club. No, he wanted Opie to pay for what had happened. Truth be told, Jax thought Clay deserved what he got. Opie had every right to kill him. But Jax had wanted to be his ally, he needed Opie to help him fix the club. But Opie had turned on him, no matter how much Jax protested his innocence. After Opie's violent assault on him and Tara, Jax very nearly died in hospital, both from his injuries and his broken spirit. He remembered crying for his best friend. But time passed, and as Jax healed, his longing was slowly replaced with anger and hatred. Now he wished the man nothing but the worst. He kept himself driven with what he was going to do to Opie once he managed to find him. Problem was, Opie had pretty much disappeared for good.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Harvey", while on an after work date with Andrea, is caught up in a violent hostage situation.
> 
> WARNING: contains sexual harrassment and graphic depictions of violence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I own nothing of Sons of Anarchy. I only own my original characters.

It was a late Wednesday evening, yet Harvey was alive with excitement. Three days of bellowing himself hoarse at unreliable co-workers had shown itself when he rang his sweetheart on his lunch break. As careful as he was to not let it show, Andrea had picked up on it right away, and her suggestion that the two of them spend the evening alone together at the diner was too much for him to resist. It was enough for him to keep his temper under control for the rest of his shift, even though the British guy (who Harvey had long since formed a kind of animosity with) had been doing his absolute best to get on Harvey's nerves all afternoon. He hadn't succeeded, which ended in him storming off to his laughable Kia Carnival, which he had boasted was the biggest, bad-ass car of them all. Of course, everyone at the docks was of the belief that anything made in South Korea was for pansies. As the British guy pumped up his terrible pop music, sneering at Harvey, he tried to do a burn-out as he sped off, which only resulted in him stalling. Snickering, Harvey shook his head and sat astride his 1946 Harley-Davidson Customized EL Knucklehead, firing it up and roaring out of the parking lot.

Harvey sometimes asked himself why he bothered riding a motorcycle after all these years. Initially, when he moved to Madawaska after dropping his real name, Harry "Opie" Winston, he had made every effort to pretend that they didn't exist. Just looking at them threatened to bring back a flood of bad memories of when he was one of the bad guys. But he couldn't resist after 3 years of driving a F150 pickup truck; he longed to feel the wind in his hair again. Besides, he had reasoned with himself, plenty of guys on the straight and narrow rode Harleys. Plus, being somewhat unable to let go of the past, he had specifically chosen the Knuckehead as a silent nod to both his murdered father, Piney, and the original President of SAMCRO, John Teller. Both were good men who died trying to right the club. HIS old club. But that was about as far as his sentiments for his old life went.

 

It was just after 6pm when Harvey strolled into McNally's Riverside Diner, to find his sweetheart waiting for him. Andrea, with her long, messy, flaming-red hair, emerald green eyes and athletic, yet ghostly pale figure, was easily the most gorgeous woman in the place. Every schmuck in the place was trying to catch her eye, while their women seethed at the flame-headed beauty, but she had eyes for only the tall, bearded, gentle giant who just happened to be her husband.

"Hi baby" Harvey said softly as he bent down, the last thing he saw was glowing emerald eyes before the face to which those eyes belonged was engaging him in a long kiss. "How are yeh love?" Andrea whispered, motioning for him to sit opposite her. As Harvey eased his gigantic frame into the small bench seat, he began to relax. As Andrea took his hand in hers, he smiled. This night was just about the two of them.

 

A couple of hours later, after munching their way through the best rib-eye steak and chips McNallys had to offer, as well as having downed at least 6 pitchers of Guiness each, Harvey and Andrea were starting to feel a little light headed. Both of them were seasoned drinkers, or as Andrea liked to joke, "functioning alcoholics", but the cold weather and fine food had them both ready for an early night. "Another Guiness and we'll head love?" Andrea smiled, her song-like Irish accent catching the attentions (again) of everyone in the diner. "Sure baby, one more, then we go home so I can give ya some lovin'!" Harvey cracked, smirking. Andrea's eyes lit up, and a flirty smile was etching on her face. "Ye naughty boy" she crooned slyly, moving in, both of them immersed in a French kiss. It was the sudden loud bang that broke them apart.

Harvey and Andrea's blood ran cold at the sight before them- four or five people being hogtied on the floor, and the husband and wife who ran the diner being held at gunpoint while some thug was going through the tills. Harvey just managed to assess that there were three assailants, all masked, before being struck across the face.

When Harvey came to, he was vaguely aware of someone struggling to tie his wrists with cable ties. He instantly knew that to move would be fatal for him and Andrea. With his eyes only opened to a slight sliver, he searched for Andrea. To his horror, he found her bound and gagged, in tears, while some asshole was groping her breasts, shouting at her in a thick, African-American Bronx accent. Horror gave way to fury as he silently lay there, assessing the situation.

"I can't tie this big guy's hands man!" a voice above him shouted. Harvey thought that he sounded like he was white, had the strung-out voice of a junkie. "Motherfucker I TOLD YOU, only one muthafuckin' cable tie to the wrists!" snarled the man who was assaulting Andrea. "GODDAMN IT!" shouted the voice above him, "LOOKS LIKE I'LL HAVE TO KILL THE-". He never finished his sentence. Harvey, seeing his only chance, had suddenly shot up like a snake, slamming into the guy, sending him flying. Harvey, to the shock of both the assailants and he hostages, moved quickly, dodging behind one of the booths. He got a quick look at the guy who he had knocked the wind out of. Masked, built like a rake, armed with a .44 Magnum. One look at his wrist gave him away as white. Harvey quickly yanked the guy with him behind the booth, amid shouting and threats from the African-American. "Come on out muthafucka, or I'll ice this bitch right 'ere!" the man snarled. Harvey, who had gotten a hold of the white guy's .44, cocked it and sat still. "Oh, you wanna be Mr Hero, huh?" the black guy taunted. Harvey seen a spoon lying on the ground, next to him, picked it up. He could now use it as a mirror. He could see in the reflection that the black guy, who had taken off his mask, was slowly advancing down the aisle, handgun in combat-ready position. Harvey heard Andrea start screaming through her gag. "Bitch if you don't shut yo' bitch ass up-" the black guy began, before Harvey suddenly shot up, aiming the Magnum quickly at the guy's chest. The guy had turned around, a look of momentary shock on his face, tried to raise his gun, but it was too late- Harvey pulled the trigger, the Magnum giving off an ear-splitting roar as the bullet exploded out of the barrel, hitting the bad guy in the middle of his chest, leaving a dime-sized hole in the front and a hole the size of a baseball blowing out of his back, gushing a torrent of blood.

The ear-splitting roar of the Magnum had rendered Harvey temporarily deaf. Amid the muffled screams of the hostages, the third assailant came rushing out of the back office, holding a Mac-10. He, too, was white, with a bald head and a goatee. He never had a chance to open fire. Harvey fired again, this time at the guys head. Half of his face was instantly blown away.

 

Harvey stood in shock for a minute. He couldn't believe it. He had killed those two guys as easily as swatting flies. The screams of his wife brought him back to reality and he rushed to her, frantically untying her, choking back tears as he did so. The owner of the restaurant, the husband, had rushed out, and, seeing that the situation was clear, began helping Harvey free the hostages, amid the ever-approaching screaming of police sirens. "Baby I'm so sorry, I'm sorry-" Harvey repeated like a mantra over and over again as he held Andrea, rocking back and forth, her sobbing into his chest. He barely noticed as the police, followed by paramedics, swarmed into the diner and began taking control of the situation. He was dazed as he was guided to an ambulance, Andrea on a stretcher, having gone into shock.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harvey is hailed a hero by the townspeople for his handling of the hostage situation, but this attracts the attention of people on the other side of the country.
> 
> WARNING: contains reference to sexual violence
> 
> Spoiler: Jax appears to have been driven to the point of madness by the events of five years ago, and now appears as cold-blooded and evil as someone can get

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I do not own any of Sons of Anarchy, only my original characters.

It was two nights later, and Harvey maintained a vigil by Andrea's bedside, alongside his two stepdaughters. Andrea herself was sleeping. She was being kept for observation by the hospital because of the traumatic experience in the diner two nights ago. Not only did she suffer blunt-force trauma to the head, courtesy of being pistol-whipped, she had also admitted to her horrified husband that she had been raped at knifepoint by both the black man and the white man, both of whom Harvey had killed. They had done it on her while Harvey was knocked out. As horrifying as this was for Harvey, knowing that had also enabled him to quickly get over the killings of the two men. Those scumbags had hurt his wife, the love of his life, and he was glad that he had killed them. The killings, of course, were immediately ruled as self-defense. The names of the three assailants had been released to the public the day after the situation. The guys who Harvey killed were 34-year-old Marcus Johnson, a low-level hustler, scam artist and suspected rapist who was associated with a prominent New York street gang but had been ran out by them on suspicion of scamming the gang out of thousands of dollars of drugs. The other guy was a 19-year-old Jew by the name of David Rubenstein, a college drop-out who had gotten himself mixed up with Marcus and drugs. The guy who was only knocked out was shown to be 25-year-old Paul Mannheim, a suspected Aryan Brotherhood soldier who had gone along on the robbery with Marcus and David, only because he was planning to kill them afterwards and take the loot for himself.

None of this mattered to Harvey, however. All he could foresee was the long road ahead for Andrea's recovery. There was no way he was leaving her side.

Harvey was taking a smoke break when his 18-year-old elder stepdaughter, Ashley, huddled next to him. "How are you doing dad?" she whispered, snuggling into him. "I'm fine sweetie... you okay?" Harvey asked, pausing to regard her for a moment. With her mother's sparkling green eyes and lithe, pale figure, the only thing that separated mother and daughter from looking alike was that Ashley's hair was dyed a deep jet-black, and was ironed perfectly straight. She and her sister, Lillian, were straight A students at their high school. Both Harvey and Andrea were always immensely proud of them. "Its just... how can this happen? This has never happened before" Ashley said quietly, her eyes going moist. "Sweetie, sometimes bad men just come along, looking for easy money, not caring who they hurt along the way" Harvey explained quietly, drawing her into his arms, as the girl sobbed quietly. Finding out that her mother was attacked and her stepfather nearly killed had taken a toll on both girls. Lillian had basically crumbled on the night that it all happened, so Harvey and Ashley had made a silent pact to be the rock for their family.

Ashley had finished crying when she looked the man who she saw as her own father, indeed loved him like her own father, in the eyes: "You're the best thing that ever came into mom's, Lil's and my life, Dad, you know that?" "I do my best sweetie... no matter what happens, I'd take a bullet for you guys" Harvey stated, looking at the girl seriously. "And you nearly did" Ashley whispered, taking her father by the hand and leading him back into the hospital. People stared at father and daughter with admiration mixed with genuine concern; Madawaska was really only a small town, where everyone knew one another, and the shocking events of two nights ago had brought the townspeople close together. Admist the turmoil in the Winters family, the townsfolk had honoured Harvey as a hero for his actions in the diner that night. This had meant that Harvey had to speak with quite a few reporters about it all, and as much as he appreciated their unusual respect towards him, he wished that they would leave him alone to be with his family.

Little did he know, his somewhat perfect, somewhat stable life was about to be shot to hell.

 

 

Teller-Morrow Automotive was abuzz with chatter about the story which had appeared on the 6 o'clock San Joaquin County news report the day before. A double shooting in a small diner up in Maine, one the other side of the country. 2 dipshits dead, a third guy in jail, and the hero who saved the day appearing on the news everywhere across America. His bearded face beaming through everyone's TVs. But while the conversations in the garage were merely mildly curious, it was what was being discussed in the Sons of Anarchy clubhouse, housed within the walls of Teller-Morrow, that would have disturbed the ears of anyone who was listening.

In the chapel of the clubhouse, the private meeting room that was usually off-limits to anyone without a kutte, there were about ten men seated at the custom Reaper table. Five of them were motionless. One man was quietly contemplative. Two more of them were seething beyond words. One other man, who had a missing eye, was feverish with a long-burning hatred. And the man at the head of the table was the most quietest, yet in the most deadly, poisonous rage that anyone had seen him in.

"So the bastard's been hiding up north for these past 5 years" Jax Teller addressed every man at the table, his voice barely more than a hiss. "I vote we take a ride up there and gut the bastard where he stands" Tig Trager, the man with the missing eye snarled, to no reaction from any other man. "No" Jax stated authoritatively, "I want him found, taken, and brought back here... to me." "And then what?" enquired a man with a wild beard and equally wild long hair, who could have passed off as Santa Claus. "You know what happens Bobby" Jax turned to the man who had spoken, fixing him with a look of deadly determination, "that bastard hurt Tara, tried to kill me and Tig. He gets put through the hell he deserves... and then, I burn his tattoos. If he dies, then it's no great loss." "Jesus Jackie, yeh can't go carryin' on like that" protested another man, this one with silvery hair, a beard and matching scars on either sides of his mouth that looked spookily like a smile. This man was known as Chibs Telford, the only Scottish member of the club and its Vice President, "he deserves a good thumpin', yeah, but yeh can't go killin' ya old friend." "AND WHY THE FUCK NOT CHIBS!?" Jax exploded, the sudden change shocking half the men in the room. Staring into Jax's face, not in the least intimidated, Chibs answered, "on'y member he killed was Clay, and we all agreed the rat bastard had it comin'. As bad as it was, you, Tara and Tiggy didnae end up dyin', so yeh can't go killin' the lad." "I DON'T GIVE A SHIT THAT HE LEFT US ALIVE!" Jax shouted, making everyone except Tig and Chibs cringe in their seats, "HE SHIT ALL OVER THIS CLUB, SHIT ALL OVER ME!" "Jax, Chibs is right" Bobby interrupted, causing Jax to turn his murderous gaze on Bobby, "and even so, we got Feds watchin' our clubhouse, and our homes. One move that ends up with Opie dead lands all our asses in jail, and we can't afford any more time! Besides, we're legit now... one killin' destroys everything we've worked for since he disappeared." Jax dearly would have loved to have taken both Bobby and Chibs outside and bashed their skulls in repeatedly, but he knew they were right. And that pissed him off more than anything. "Tell you what, Pres" interjected possibly the most feared man in the room, the bald Mexican sitting to Jax's right, "why don't you send a few of us up, we can grab him and bring him back here, and beat the shit outta him. Then send the hairy prick on his way, make sure he never steps foot in this town again." Jax turned to the man who had spoke, whose name was Happy Lowman. Jax regarded the only man who he was ever remotely frightened of, before exhaling and speaking, "I like that idea Hap. Okay, all in favour of bringing Opie back to face the music for his crimes... Yay" Jax stated, putting his hand up. Starting from Chibs, working their way around the table, every man ended up with a "yay", with some noticeable hesitation from Bobby and another long-time club member, Juice. 

"Arrgh this is bullshit! The fuckin' asshole needs to DIE!" Tig snapped, banging his palms on the table, drawing every man's stare onto him. "You serious?" Bobby scoffed, staring with disdain at the wild-haired, crazy-eyed Tig, "you got no place to talk, seein' as you were the one who-" "Enough, Bobby!" Jax snapped, pounding the gavel, "what happened back then stays there!" "Yeh only sayin' that because you hate Opie so much" Chibs growled, looking at his leader with disgust, "when it was you who was holdin' the boy up at Donna's burial. Don't ever change how you were towards him... remember, Opie lost a hell of a lot to this club as well." Jax boiled with rage at Chibs' words, especially since again, it was all true. He stared at Chibs like he wanted to take a bite out of him. The thick tension in the room only ended when Jax dismissed Chapel. As every man filed out towards the bar, Jax stared with hate towards Bobby and Chibs. The two men and him were once close like brothers, but Jax's alarmingly growing obsession with finding and torturing Opie over the years had driven some distance between them and Jax., with both Bobby and Chibs being concerned that Jax was losing sight of himself as a leader. He regretted ever having made Chibs his VP, but he also knew that Chibs was the best man for the job. 

It was much later that night that it was organised that Tig, and 2 new members named Ratboy and Montez, would make the drive to Maine, pick up Opie, and bring him back. Once the club had gone to their respective homes, Jax had pulled Tig aside for a private chat, making sure first that Bobby and Chibs were nowhere near the building.

"This stays between me, and you" Jax told Tig firmly, "before you leave, Juice is gonna dig up as much intel as he can, about where Opie lives, who his wife and kids are, where he works, the usual." "You, uhh, want me to waste the wife and kids if he has any?" Tig grinned psychotically. "No, I'd really rather you not" Jax growled, angry that Tig could get excited about such a thing, "but if you have to, scare them off. Make it so that bastard has nowhere to run, no one to hide with." "Okay, is that it?" Tig asked, like the loyal soldier he was. "No... once he gets back her, once we're 'officially' done with him... you and I catch him while he's leaving, take him up to the cabin. No one will see him ever again" Jax said with a determined look on his face, to Tig's utter delight.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ashley and Lillian have an unwelcome group of visitors

The school bell rang, signalling the end of the school day, and the beginning of the weekend. The high school seemed to gush the students out all at once. Ashley and Lillian Winters were amongst them.

"My god, what a hell of a week!" Lillian exclaimed to Ashley as both sisters strolled towards Ashley's second hand Ford Falcon that she had paid for herself, through her night job at a restaurant and some weekend work with Harvey on the docks."I know right? Maybe Dad will let us have some Jameson's" Ashley enthused, a dreamy look coming over her eyes. "Ewww, gross" Lillian huffed, "why would you want to drink at ALL, let alone that Irish piss!?" "Says she who chugged half a bottle and threw up for 3 days straight!" Ashley cackled, shoving her sister playfully. The two of them wrestled each other to the ground, laughing and goofing around. It was the sudden feeling that they were being watched, combined with the chilling "well hello there ladies" that made them spring to their feet.

The girls gasped in fear. There were three men standing before them. All bikers. The girls knew enough about gangs from social science class to know that these were Sons of Anarchy.

The speaker was the reason for their fear. He was a tall man, with black curly hair, long sideburns, a cruel looking moustache and one psychotic blue eye. His other one was missing, a scarred mess where his other eye should have been. The cohort beside him was a weedy looking guy, with rattish dark hair and a wild beard, his dark eyes as hard as slate. A third gang member lolled off to the side, a short, pudgy little Mexican with slicked back hair and a small beard. Unlike his two cohorts, who were eyeing the girls hungrily like wolves, this guy seemed more curious than anything.

Ashley and Lillian had both regained their feet, along with their tempers. "Who the hell are you guys?" snarled Ashley, though making sure to keep her distance. "Bitch got a temper on her... Guess Opie taught her well" sneered the weedy guy. "Yeah" smirked Blue Eye, inching closer to Lillian, who gulped, standing still in fear, already knowing that these bikers were up to no good. Ashley stood in front of her sister, staring Blue Eye in the face. "I'll ask again" Ashley growled, "who are you and what do you want!?" "Tough little doll ain't ya?" sneered Blue Eye, "Is it wrong that that turns me on?" "Fucking pervert! You all better leave before we call the cops... On myself for kicking your one-eyed ugly ass!" Ashley snarled, ready to beat this ugly bastard to death if need be. Blue Eye and Weedy burst out laughing, while the Mexican, seeing events spiralling out of control already, stepped in and said in a soft voice "Tig, Rat, come on, we aren't here to hurt kids hermanos". "And why are you here then?" Ashley snapped, turning to the Mexican, though her temper had cooled a bit at his lack of insolence. The Mexican reached into his leather vest and pulled out a large slip of paper. A photo. He wordlessly handed it to Ashley, who took it with a shaking hand.

"Holy shit..." Lillian breathed, breaking Ashley out of her horror, "Dad?" "Yeah, where the hell is he?!" the man called Tig snapped. Ashley shot him a look of death before hissing "whatever you want with him, forget it! Our family has enough going on without looking over our shoulders for a pack of bikers! Come on Lillian!" Shooting the two guys called Tig and Rat a look of malevolence, before giving the Mexican a look that said " Don't try to follow us", Ashley grabbed her sister's hand and made a beeline for the Ford. 

"Hey doll!" Tig shouted at the girl's retreating forms. Ashley stiffened, turned around, was shocked to find that the bastard was advancing on her. She got ready to fight. "Keep the engine running" Ashley whispered to Lillian. "What, NO Ash! You can't!" Lillian begged. "Just do it!" Ashley yelled, a look of murder upon her face. As Lillian fumbled to get the Ford started, Ashley turned back to the son of a bitch who was called Tig, to find him standing a foot from her. Before she could open her mouth, Tig spoke. "I heard about the diner... I pegged him as Opie straight away" Tig growled, no longer in a humorous mood, pointing to his mangled eye. "And who the hell is this Opie? Never heard of him" Ashley spat. Laughing without humour, Tig leant in, snarling softly "Opie's the piece of shit that's hitched up with your mom. He used to be one of us." "Yeah bullshit" Ashley laughed, "he's a Scottish guy that used to be in the Army, been working on the docks... He'd never hurt a soul". "He tell you and your mom that?" Tig cackled, "you're even stupider than you look." "Nice try asshole, you got the wrong guy, now get out of here before he beats your asses" Ashley hissed, ready to strangle this insolent fuck. "Ohhh I'm sure he would" Tig smirked, now give him this from me would you?" "Give him what?" Ashley snapped. Tig smiled, before suddenly slamming his fist into her nose. 

The shouting and cursing and screaming was nothing compared to what Ashley heard Tig whisper to her before she passed out- "we know where you live. We'll be around to catch up with daddy soon."


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harvey's (Opie's) world comes crashing down on his head

The Winters household was a scene of fraught tension. Harvey had three terrified women on his hands.

Andrea was still in recovery from the assault at the diner. So the last thing Harvey was needing was two terrified girls barrelling through the front door, ranting about bikers at their school. And how the bikers threatened them. How Ashley remembered two of their names, Rat and Tig.

BIKERS?

Harvey made sure to get the girls settled in with their mother before he made up an excuse to go out to the garage. He said that he needed to check the dog, which even to Harvey was a piss poor excuse. Luckily, his family bought it, and it was only after he locked the door was he able to think about the situation.

"Shit! Shit! Shit! SHIT!!" he bellowed, kicking a bicycle over. This was NOT supposed to happen! He had buried Harry "Opie" Winston 5 years ago- aand it was supposed to stay that way. "The fucking diner!" Harvey snarled to himself. Of course. The diner. Harvey had wanted to stay away from the media for a reason. He should have guessed his former brothers in SAMCRO would find him this way. And Tig, within centimetres of his daughters- he knew he should have shot him in the head the night he left Charming. TIG, the sick fuck who had shot Donna, his first wife, to death, near his girls, made his blood run cold. And he knew that Tig would have been more than happy to blow his cover, to completely fuck things up for him and his family. Harvey knew that unless he found a way to deal with Tig and his cohorts on the sly, his new identity would be shot to shit. And he could kiss Andrea, Ashley and Lillian goodbye.

His blood ran cold at the sound of motorcycles outside his house. He reached into his toolbox, grabbed the shotgun he had hidden away from the wife and kids. It was military-grade pump action, able to hold 10 rounds, fitted with a choke to increase the range and damage. Throwing up the garage door, his worst fears were confirmed. Tig himself was pointing a pistol at him, backed up by two guys- one he recognised as Rat, the other was Mexican. 'New blood' Opie thought to himself as he levelled the shotgun at the three unwelcome guests.

"Whoever you guys are, you need to leave!" Opie roared, making sure the barrel was pointed squarely at Tig's head. "Come on Ope, don't pretend you don't know us" Tig leered, prepared to kill Opie if need be. Rat and the Mexican made their way towards the house, Mac-10s in hand. "NO!" Opie roared, firing the shotgun just inches from Rat's leg. Their demeanour changed- both men scuttled back behind Tig, keeping their Macs levelled at Opie.

Tig looked on in amusement. Opie hadn't lost his touch. "Ope, man, listen" Tig began, all false courtesy and fake smiles, "you knew we'd find you eventually. Why don't you make it easy on yourself, come back peacefully to Charming. Jax has been dying to see you." "I don't know any of you! You're wasting your time!" Opie snapped, "what right you got harrassing my girls at school, anyway?!" "Montez" Tig addressed the Mexican, gesturing with his head. Opie froze- Lillian had snuck out of the house, no doubt hoping to get a better look at the assailants. She had somehow snuck out the side, behind Opie's truck. And Tig had spotted her. Of course.

Which wasn't of any help because a minute later, Lillian, screaming, was being held at gunpoint by the Mexican Montez, ableit reluctantly. Rat eyed her up and down with a predatory look while Tig never stopped paying attention to Opie. 

"Don't make us hurt the kid, Ope" Tig warned, "we just want you to come with us, heal some old wounds- don't pretend like you never missed us." "Dad, please, just go with these guys, they're not gonna hurt you once they realise its a big misunderstanding!" Lillian sobbed. By now, Andrea and Ashley had rushed outside and seen what no-one should see- a husband and daughter being held at gunpoint by a band of lunatics. Screaming hysterically at the thugs, Ashley lost it, picking up a rock and hurling it at Rat, striking him on the nose. And that's when all hell broke loose.

As soon as Rat went down, screaming and clutching his nose, Opie fired, the buckshot striking Rat in the head and bringing Montez down, buckshot striking his right leg, just missing Lillian by inches. Rat was dead instantly. Tig had zeroed in on Opie's chest before Opie could aim at him and fired once, dropping him. 

His family's screams rang through his ears as he lay on the ground in a world of pain. The bullet had gone straight through, he was leaking blood as Tig stood over him, breathing heavily, pointing his gun at Opie's face. 

"Anything you wanna say before I put a hole in ya fuckin' head, you cunt?" Tig seethed, his one good eye blazing with deep loathing. Opie looked at him and snarled softly, "I should have finished your sorry ass back in Charming." Tig snickered- he would finish this piece of shit, then have his way with his wife and kids. Montez could fuck off back to California, or die of his wounds, for all Tig cared. "Yeah Opie, you should have" he laughed, about to pull the trigger.

"Ya rat bastard Tiggy!" a voice came out of nowhere, accompanied by a shotgun blast. Tig's head disappeared in a cloud of blood and bone, and his body fell on top of Opie.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The term "win some, lose some" is made apparent to Opie when his family finds out his secret, and he reconnects with an old friend.

Opie groaned, opened his eyes. His chest felt like it had met a sledgehammer. 

The memories of it all came back in an instant- Tig, Montez, Rat, the girls- Andrea...

He let out a strangled yell and tried to jump off the couch, only to be pushed back by a rough pair of hands. "Easy boy, you'll fuck ya chest more than ya have already" came a rough Scottish voice. Opie recognised it right away- no one else in the world sounded like that. "Chibs?" he yelled angrily. "Jesus Opie, relax, will ya, or Miss Andrea will have me thrown out!"

Opie blinked, looked around. It was his living room. And the first thing he saw was Ashley. Who was white as a ghost. And terrified. "Dad!" she yelled, half-sobbing, launching herself onto him. Opie cradled her best as he could in his arms. It was then he saw him. Chibs. With his ever present first aid kit. And a pair of spectacles.

"Now, Ope, you took one hell of a shot to the chest, it went through, so all I had ta do was seal the holes" Chibs began, gently shooing Ashley out of the way so he could apply bandages. Opie was too shocked to speak. Here was a man who Opie thought would surely have killed him, along with the rest of SAMCRO, but was here tending his wounds, as if Opie had never left. As Ashley looked on in tears, relief all over her face, Chibs applied the last bandage, and then promptly went to retrieve a bottle of whiskey. Opie still couldn't speak. He was still staring as Chibs shuffled into the room, and started pouring Jamesons into three glasses.

"Drink up lassie, yeh had a hell of a mornin'" Chibs smiled at Ashley, offering her the glass. Ashley looked at Opie for assent- Opie nodded, still shocked that his daughter and Chibs were in the same room together. "Thanks" Ashley whispered, taking the glass gratefully from Chibs. Chibs smiled at her like she was his own granddaughter, before turning to Opie, holding the glass to his mouth, helping him sip.

Opie had found his voice. He also knew that Harvey Winters was dead. "How the hell did you find us?" Opie asked in a shaky voice. Chibs sighed, sitting down. "We saw yeh on TV a bit o' time back Ope" Chibs said quietly, "of course Charming blew up in a big way. Jackie Boy called church over it all." So Jax is President?" Opie asked, not at all suprised- everyone knew that Jackson Teller was next in line to the throne after Clay Morrow. "Aye, lad, he wanted ta kidnap yeh and bring yeh back home. Said he wanted ta knock yeh around a bit for what happened five years ago. Couldna say I blamed him at the time" Chibs said, suddenly looking at Opie very severely. Opie usually would have bit back at the Scotsman's words, but he had been harbouring some guilt over what had happened. He didn't give a shit about Clay or Tig- the two of them weren't worthy of being his asswipers as far as he was concerned. But he never forgot that Jax was his best friend- and in his blind rage, he had destroyed his relationships with his best friend, his wife at the time, his two biological children, his mother, and had no doubt pissed off his brothers in SAMCRO for his actions. "I'm sorry Chibs, I really am" Opie said quietly. "I don't need ya to apologize to me lad" Chibs said sternly, "Christ, no one blames ya for what happened to Clay, everyone knows that he took out Piney, amongst all the other heinous shit done to ya... But Christ boy, yeh left ya mates behind, ya know? No one knows what happened- yeh coulda been dead for all we knew" he finished, eyeing Opie with a mixture of severity and pity. Opie let Chibs' words sink into him. He felt horrible- he wished Tig had just shot him at that moment. A loud sniffling noise broke the silence, and Opie turned his head- Ashley was staring at him, shocked, with tears running down her face. It hit him- she had no idea Opie ever existed. "You've got some explaining to do, DAD" she growled, helping herself to more whiskey.


End file.
